


Talking To Somebody Like You

by Tito11



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Off-screen Minor Character Death, On Hiatus, References to Child Abuse, Work In Progress, and probably pretty obvious, surprise pairing but trust me it'll be good
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tito11/pseuds/Tito11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where they're all foster kids and Tony's the guy providing the scholarships. Unfortunately, he led them to believe he's just another kid from the system, and his new friendships may not survive in the face of the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It occurs to me that while I always go into Tony’s background in pretty much every fic I write, I never really bother with Steve’s. so, uh, sorry, or something
> 
> Also, I mean, I’m pretty aware that this isn’t how the foster care system works, but reality generally takes a backseat to plot, especially in an au. 
> 
> Finally, I’d like to apologize for Coulson’s characterization here. It’s little funky, mainly because I kept accidentally picturing Lickboot from the Tom and Jerry movie every time I went to write his dialogue. 
> 
> Title from "Graduate" by Third Eye Blind

Six hours after his parents’ death, someone finally thinks to call Tony. He’s in the lab on campus when he gets the news. He knows the minute Howard’s phone number appear on his caller id that something’s very wrong. Tony’s father has never once called him directly. Whenever he wants a message sent through, he has his PA call. He lets it ring a few times, psyching himself up before he answers. It’s Obie’s voice on the other line, and that’s when Tony’s fears are confirmed. Something is, in fact, very wrong: his parents are dead.

He doesn’t remember much of the conversation, afterward, just Obie saying he’ll send a car, and for Tony not to try driving. Tony’s only fifteen, so he doesn’t have a license, but he does have four vintage cars that he bought and fixed up himself, one at a time, hoping with each new one that this would be the one that would catch Howard’s eye. Tony’s been looking at a fifth car, online, but he supposes there’s no point now. He’ll never be able to catch his father’s eye, because his father is dead. His mother, too.

Tony sinks down to the floor, numbly, and tries to think about car parts. The lab is empty, which probably has more to do with it being four in the morning than with Tony, but all of the sudden it occurs to Tony just how alone he is. In the lab, yes, but also in the world. He’s only fifteen, and he has no family left.

What happens, he wonders vaguely, when fifteen year olds are all alone? Will they send him to foster care? It’s a laughable idea. Tony’s been watching out for himself his whole life, but especially in this past year he’s been in school. What could a foster parent possibly do for him that he can’t do for himself, either with his own two hands or with his money. Because, even if they don’t let him count Howard’s wealth in his assets until he turns eighteen, he’s got a pretty sizable amount of cash he’s made all on his own, and at least eight patents. He’s self-sufficient, at the very least.

It’s a comforting thought, permeating slowly down through his numbness. His parents are dead, but he can take of himself. He doesn’t need his parents, he doesn’t need anybody. Howard was only holding him back, keeping him from being the best he could be. Howard’s dead now, and won’t ever care about any of Tony’s cars.

Tony pulls his knees to his chest and hugs them tight. He puts his face down and waits, counting the minutes until the chauffer Obie sent comes to find him.

 

Three days after his parents’ deaths, Tony goes to their funeral. He’s got Obie on his right side, hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s glad for it, doesn’t think he’d be able to stand without it. He’s not sure why exactly his knees are so shaky, but he can only figure it’s a side effect from the dream-like state that he’s been in ever since he got Obie’s call three days ago at four a.m. He floats through the funeral, ignoring the droning of the immaculate priest. Tony’s parents weren’t especially good Catholics, so Tony’s not sure why the priest agreed to be here, except that he’s probably being paid an exorbitant amount. Well, that’s reason enough, Tony guesses, especially since the way the priest looks at Tony throughout the service makes it pretty clear his salary goes to keeping up his white van and candy supply. Tony winks.

After the funeral, Tony floats right through the wake. He stares at a picture of his parents’ wedding day, and wonders idly if his father was famous enough at that point for the newspapers to do a full spread. Somehow, Tony’s never bothered to find out, and now, well, it’s not like he cares. He doesn’t care about anything, in fact, not even the huge line of old, wealthy business men who shake Tony’s hand and tell him what an upstanding guy his father was. Tony doesn’t laugh or cry, or do anything at all, but just keeps on floating.

 

Four days after his parents’ death, this wonderful floating thing Tony’s got going on crashes and burns when he meets social worker Phil Coulson.

“What do you mean I’ve got to prove to a judge I’m self-sufficient?” Tony asks incredulously. “Have you met me?”

“I have,” Coulson says drily. “That’s why I’m worried.”

Tony slumps back into his desk chair and scowls. They’re in Tony’s office in the R&D of Stark Industries, the one he’s had since he was twelve. The reason they’re not in Coulson’s office is because apparently social workers don’t have offices, they have teeny, tiny little cubicles. It puts Tony at a distinct advantage from behind the desk, while Coulson sits in one of his uncomfortable visitor’s chairs, which just makes it all the more infuriating that Tony’s not winning this argument.

“Come on, Coulson,” he whines. “I’m in college already. I’ve been living by myself for a year, now. I’ve got patents, I’ve got money. What more do you need?”

“A little maturity would be nice,” Coulson tells him, and Tony scoffs.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Tony,” Coulson says, very flatly. “Self-sufficiency is about more than just having the means to take care of yourself. It’s also about having the responsibility to make adult decisions in regards to your wellbeing.”

“Pfft,” Tony says. “I can pay people for that.”

Coulson sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. When he composes himself, he looks up again and meets Tony’s eyes. “You listen to me, Tony Stark. If you don’t want to spend the next three years being fostered by a middle-class couple in Long Island, you’re going to do exactly as I say.”

It’s a threat worse than any Tony could have imagined. Clearly, this is not a man to have as an enemy. Tony’ll play along, he supposes, just until the hearing. After that, they’ll see.

 

Six weeks after his parents’ death, Tony attends a hearing where Phil Coulson vouches for Tony’s self-sufficiency to a judge. Tony smiles and nods when addressed. This is too important to fuck up, he knows. The entirety of Long Island may be at stake if this doesn’t work out. Tony doesn’t float through the hearing, but only because he hasn’t been able to get that feeling back, ever since he met Coulson for the first time. He’s good at faking it though, and when they leave the courthouse, Coulson gives him an encouraging nod of approval.

 

Eight weeks after his parents’ death, Tony’s been emancipated and awarded half of his father’s estate, the rest to be kept in trust until he’s eighteen. It doesn’t change much. Since his parent’s death, Tony’s been living in his apartment, going to his classes (or not going, as the case demands), and building his artificial intelligence, which, he’ll tell you is slow going. He even makes an appearance at SI when he absolutely has to. In other words, all the things he did before his parents died. The emancipation, though, that makes it legit, and Coulson seems to think that’s important. Tony doesn’t care either way. He’s just going to keep living his life, and fuck anyone who gets in his way.

 

One year after his parents’ death, Tony jerks upright as the door to his office slams.

“Blurgh,” he says, sleepily, and watches as Coulson enters the room, carrying a thick manila folder.

“Your personal assistant let me in,” he says, pretty unnecessarily. He’s making a point, Tony knows, about how they totally had a meeting scheduled for today. He drops the folder in front of Tony and takes a seat in the visitor’s chair. Really, it’s more like his chair at this point; no one else ever uses it, mainly because no one else ever comes to visit Tony’s office.

“What’s this?” Tony asks, opening the folder. Inside, there’s a bunch of what appear to be poorly-written essays. “Did my scientists write these?” he asks, halfway to a panic already. “Because, I mean, I know math’s the most important thing for a scientist, but literacy is pretty important, just in general. How will any of them ever be published if they can’t tell the difference between ‘there’ and ‘their’?”

“Mr. Stark,” Coulson begins, just bulldozing right through all of Tony’s concerns, and that’s when Tony knows he’s in trouble. Coulson only ever breaks out the title when he’s gearing up to manipulate Tony into something. “Have you ever considered philanthropy?”

Tony closes the folder, no longer caring. If it’s not about his scientists or his projects, it’s not his problem. “Not interested,” he says, breezily.

“You should be,” Coulson says, “Wouldn’t it be nice to be able to introduce yourself as Tony Stark, Philanthropist? You’ve already got boy genius and billionaire, why not add another?”

“You forgot playboy,” Tony says, indignantly. “It’s Tony Stark, boy genius, billionaire, playboy.”

“And it could be Tony Stark, boy genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. It has a certain ring, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, Coulson,” Tony says, opening the folder again. “What makes these kids so special? And can’t it wait until I’m eighteen? I’ll have the rest of Howard’s estate, then, and be able to help all the kids I want.”

“These are kids in the system, Tony,” Coulson tells him, solemnly, “The system you didn’t have to become a part of, and once they turn eighteen, they’ll be cut loose, most without any aid from their foster parents at all. They don’t have two years. They need help now.”

“Can I even afford to help these kids?” Tony asks, flipping slowly through the first few essays. “There are a lot of them and I’m not as rich as I could be.”

“I’ve worked the figures,” Coulson says, indicating a sheet in the back of the folder Tony hadn’t noticed before. It’s full of calculations and sums. “The end result I’ve come up with is that you should be able to provide four of them with a four-year education at an Ivy League school. Columbia, even, if you like, since it’s where you go.”

“Four?” Tony asks, a little taken aback. “Coulson, there’s gotta be two hundred essays here.”

“Well then,” Coulson says, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “You’ll just have to pick the ones you feel are most deserving.”

 

Later, once Coulson finally leaves after their bimonthly evaluation of Tony’s lifestyle and behaviors, which Tony absolutely does not appreciate, thank you very much, he finally gets to take a good look at the essays in the folder. There’s so many of them, he thinks, and wonders how he’ll ever be able to narrow them down.

It takes hours, but eventually, Tony works out a system. Anything with an obvious spelling or grammatical error gets discarded. Seriously, how hard is it to use spell check? Additionally, anyone who sounds too much like they’re writing what they think he wants to hear is out of the running.

The theme of the essay seems to be the basic, boring, dull question of, “Why do you deserve this scholarship?” Tony marvels, suddenly, at Coulson’s confidence that Tony would agree to this whole thing. It must have taken a hell of a lot of work to get the word out there to all the foster kids in the country about the scholarship, then make sure all the essays got in on time. Coulson was probably going to play that as his trump card, except that Tony agreed too easily. Next time, Tony thinks, he’ll make Coulson work harder for it.

Eventually, after hours of tedious reading, Tony’s made his decision. Well, preliminary decision, anyway. He’s got four kids in mind, from their essays alone, but he wants to go a step further, and he’s got the resources to do it. He wants to meet each of these kids on their own turf, without telling them who he is or what’s at stake. Then, he’ll be able to see through this essay bullshit and into who these kids actually are.

Tony looks at the winning essays in his hands and goes through them one more time. They’ve each got something special about them, these kids. There’s an archer, a ballerina, a physicist, and an artist. An odd collection, but, pending informal interview, he’s sure they’ll all come together beautifully.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony makes an appointment with Coulson the very next day, because he’s excited enough about this whole scholarship thing to overlook the fact that Coulson drives him up the wall. And Coulson must be pretty excited, too, because he ignores the exact same thing about Tony and comes over after lunch.

“These are the finalists,” Tony says, handing the winning essays over. “I’m gonna go meet them individually, and if they pass inspection, they’re in.”

Coulson flicks slowly through the essays, then looks up at Tony with an eyebrow raised. “Did you trace these?” he asks.

Tony scoffs. “With what, Coulson? Their names aren’t even on them. Do you think I scanned for fingerprints or something? Who do I look like, Sherlock Holmes?”

As usual, Coulson doesn’t justify Tony’s totally legitimate and serious questions with an answer. Instead he says, “I made sure when I gave you the essays that you had candidates from all over the country from which to choose. Yet somehow you managed to pick four students that are all from the New York area.”

“Huh,” Tony says, “What are the odds? Well, I guess it’s just proof that life’s a kick in this town.”

Coulson raises an eyebrow and his mouth twitches. “Was that a Go-Go’s quote?” he asks slowly.

Tony blushes and hurries to change the subject. “So can you tell me anything about these kids? You know, for when I go to interview them?”

“I can, as it happens,” Coulson says, but the look in his eyes tells Tony he’s not off the hook completely for his taste in music. “I know two of them personally, and a third in passing. The ballet dancer is Natasha Romanov and the archer is Clint Barton. Romanov was picked up last year while grifting on the streets. She refuses to talk to anyone about how she ended up there, but from her accent, I’d say she probably moved here from Russia as a child. Barton was also on the streets, before he was picked up with his brother about five years ago. His brother’s since aged out of the system and, as far as I know, Clint hasn’t heard from him since. They’re both in Xavier’s.”

“Hang on,” Tony interrupts. “They’re where?”

“Charles Xavier Children’s Center,” Coulson tells him, and his eyes narrow as he says it, like thinking about the place displeases him. “It’s a group home where they put troubled children. Barton and Romanov, for example, are both flight risks. The artist, Steve Rogers, is there, too. I believe, he’s in for his history of fist fighting.”

“And the amateur physicist?” Tony asks. Of all the kids, this is the one Tony’s most excited by. As soon as Tony’d read over the proof he’d included with his essay, he’d known this was a boy after Tony’s own heart. The kid is brilliant. Hell, it’s practically an official business investment to send this kid to school.

Coulson checks his notes. “His name is Bruce Banner. That’s all I have on him. I could send you more information after we’re done here, but I assume there’s no point since you’ll find him sooner than that by hacking into the youth services network.”

“You assume right,” Tony tells him, already grabbing for his phone to do just that. It’s a government system, so it was probably contracted out to the lowest bidder, and it’s therefore an incredibly easy hack. It takes Tony less than ten minutes, all told, though it would probably have taken longer if he didn’t already have some experience in hacking government networks. “Banner, Bruce,” he reads. “Mother murdered by his father when he was eight, father sent to prison. Currently residing in Harlem with-” He falters. “Uh oh, looks like his dad’s out of prison on a technicality and Bruce is living with him again. Can he still get the scholarship, from a legal standpoint?”

Coulson hmms and purses his lips. “If his father was just released, social services are probably still checking up on them from time to time. I’d say it’s probably still fine, and if it’s not I’ll pull some strings, when the time comes.”

“You’re a scary man, Coulson,” Tony tells him. “I hope you realize that. And, oh, hey, before I forget, do me a favor and don’t mention this to any of the potentials if you see them. I wanna interview them without them knowing it’s an interview. More honest like that, or something.”

“You don’t think they’ll be suspicious when Tony Stark shows up to talk to them only weeks after they submitted essays for the Maria Stark Foundation scholarship?”

“Maria Stark Foundation?” Tony yelps. “When did we get a foundation? And why is it called that?”

“Tony,” Coulson says, patiently. “You can’t just give these kids money. There has to be a legal charity for it to all go through. The Foundation has been active for almost a year, giving a small amount of money to various organizations in the area, as per your mother’s request in her will. I explained all this to you back in one of our first meetings together.”

“It’s my money,” Tony says petulantly. “Shouldn’t I get some say in where it goes?”

“You do have some say, Tony,” Coulson says, no longer sounding quite so patient. “You’ve been signing release forms for funds for months. Don’t you read anything before you sign it?”

“Nah,” Tony says coolly. “I’ve got people for that.”

“You need a nanny,” Coulson tells him very seriously and stands up. “Or at the very least, a more attentive personal assistant. Someone has to run your life, Tony, and clearly it’s not going to be you. I’m leaving now, because I have another appointment after this and babysitting you is not my job, but I suggest you hire someone to keep you in line, and quickly.”

“Whatever,” Tony says, then remembers something. “Wait, Coulson, I forgot to tell you my plan. My plan for the kids. They’re not going to know who I am, even with this stupid foundation of yours, because I’m not going to tell them who I am. I’m gonna go meet them and pretend I’m just another kid in the system. It’s brilliant, right?”

He’s not expecting praise or anything, not from Coulson, but he does think it’s pretty smart. There’s no way for it to go wrong. Coulson obviously disagrees, though, because he pauses long enough to say, “That is a plan bound to end in tears, Tony,” and then he’s out the door and gone.

Tony sighs. That guy’s such a Debbie Downer. It’ll all work out. Tony’ll show him.

 

It’s not hard to con his way into Xavier’s. All he has to do is sneak into a crowd of kids being herded into the complex by two harried-looking chaperones. They don’t even pat him down or ask for ID or anything before the gates clang shut. All the kids just scatter and the adults look happy to see them go. And honestly, this lack of security is a little worrying, especially for some place they keep kids, but today it serves his purpose.

Luck must be with him, because right at that moment two girls hurry past, carrying ballet shoes and talking about being late for practice. The complex doesn’t have a music or theater room, apparently, but what it does have are a bunch of all-purpose activity rooms. The girls lead him into a building and past a bunch of these, where various groups of kids are doing things like painting, singing and brawling. Finally, they turn into one. Tony follows them in, glad to see there are other spectators in the room already, sitting along the wall. He goes to join them and settles in to watch.

Practice clearly hasn’t started yet, and all the dancers are stretching leisurely and chatting. Tony recognizes Natasha instantly from the pictures Coulson reluctantly sent him. She’s easy to spot, even among all the other dancers, because she’s the only redhead in the whole group. While Tony’s still admiring her beauty, the instructor starts practice.

As soon as Tony sees her dance, he knows she’s the right choice for his collection. That's how he’s started thinking of it: his orphan collection. It's not the worst thing he could be collecting. He remembers his mother's china doll collection. There were hundreds of them and they were creepy as fuck. Natasha, with her smooth pale skin and big glassy eyes could be one of them. Tony is in awe, watching her move.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” someone asks from his left. Tony tears his eyes away from Natasha and looks at the boy next to him. He’s short and stocky, with sandy blonde hair and powerful-looking arms and shoulders. He looks familiar, but Tony can’t think from where.

“Boy, is she,” Tony says. “You know her?” This could be the perfect situation to get information about her, if he plays his cards right.

“She’s my best friend,” the boy says. “And I can tell you right now, you don’t stand a chance, buddy. She’d eat you for breakfast.”

“Hey!” Tony says, indignantly. “You don’t know that. I’m extremely charming and suave. I could totally get her to go for me.”

“Go for your throat, maybe. Hi, I’m Clint Barton,” the kid says, holding out a hand. Tony takes it and introduces himself with just his first name, marveling at his luck to have the two kids he needs to see in the same exact place. That’s why he looked familiar; Tony was looking his picture not two hours ago. Natasha’s beauty must have clouded his brain or something. “I’m here to tell you, though, she doesn’t go for younger guys. And you seem like you’re about twelve.”

“I’m sixteen,” Tony tells him primly. “And I’ll have you know, I’m going to college.” Tony mentally curses the minute it’s out of his mouth, because he’s not supposed to be Tony Stark, child prodigy, today, but just plain old Tony, system kid.

The kid just looks interested, though. “Starting in the fall? Me and Natasha, too, hopefully. We both applied for a bunch of scholarships and Phil, our social worker, he thinks we both have a pretty good shot for some of them. A couple of them are even full rides, like that Maria Stark one.”

Tony thinks quickly. He’s got an idea, and it’s kinda shady, but it’ll hopefully get him the information he wants. “That’s the one I got,” he says. “That Stark scholarship. I’ll be at Columbia in the fall.” That part’s true, at least; Tony will be back at Columbia then, on the Stark dime even. He’ll just also be in his senior year and not actually on a scholarship. “What did you put in your essay, just stuff you thought they wanted to hear?”

Clint shifts, uncomfortably. “Well, sorta. You gotta make it sound good. But, most of it was kinda personal, if you know what I mean. I’m an archer, you know, but there’s not much call for that, these days. I do competitions and stuff, when they let me out, but I know most competitors start training pretty young. And going to a college with an archery program would get my name out there, get me noticed. I’m not too picky about the degree, but I bet I can find something I like.”

“Huh,” Tony muses, “That’s all pretty deep.”

“Shut up,” Clint says, “Besides, I’ve got another reason, too.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“There’s this guy,” Clint says, and he blushes a very tiny bit. “Real upstanding type, you know? Old enough to have his shit together, not old enough that it’s weird. He likes me, I know he does, but he won’t date me ‘til I have an education. Said something about power imbalances and having my own life. I think it might be the real deal with him, you know?”

“Not really,” Tony says. He’s always been more of a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em type. “But I trust your judgment. What about Natasha? She have any super deep emotional reasons for wanting to go to college?”

Clint shrugs. “Natasha’s reasons are her own and if she’s got them, she’s not talking. But I’ll tell you this, that girl has gone through hell her entire life and she deserves a break. See the dance instructor?” Tony nods. “He’s fucking her. Payment for lessons.”

“What?” Tony chokes out. “The center just lets that happen?”

“Her word against his, and she’s got a history of lying.”

“What’s his name?” Tony asks, already planning exactly how he’s going to destroy this man’s career. Clint tells him and Tony files it away for later.

The practice ends, soon after that, and Tony takes the opportunity to stand up and catch Natasha’s eye.

"Nice tutu!" he calls.

She raises an eyebrow elegantly. "It's a leotard," she says. Her voice is smoother than he'd expect, with only the trace of an accent. “Enjoy it while you can, because you’ll never get near enough to see it up close.”

“What did I tell you?” Clint says, nudging Tony’s ribs with his elbows. “She doesn’t go for younger guys.”

These two, Tony thinks, shaking his head. They’re keepers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drum roll, please! (jk)

Clint and Natasha invite him to eat lunch with them after that, or rather, Clint invites him for lunch and Natasha doesn’t seem too pissed about it. Tony accepts, because he likes these guys, wants to spend more time with them. He doesn’t have that many friends, not because he’s not likeable- he’s a fucking gem, ask anyone!- but because not many people can relate to his situation. He gets the feeling Clint and Natasha have a similar problem. 

He also accepts because he’s freaking starving. He’s imagining Oliver Twist bullshit, gruel or whatever, but what they actually get fed are a very greasy piece of pizza and lukewarm, soggy fries. Also a scoop of canned peaches, to round it all out or something. Tony’s never been to public school, but his friend Rhodey from college described the food to him once or twice, and this seems pretty similar- not inedible, but not very appetizing, either.

Tony wolfs it all down.

“What?” he asks defensively, when Clint and Natasha just stare. 

“They must have starved you, at your last home,” Natasha says softly, like she knows what that’s like.

“Oh,” Tony says, thinking fast. He didn’t really think out what type of orphan he was going to pretend to be, but he’s pretty sure he’ll never pass as a neglected or abused child for long, though to be fair, he was kinda both of those things, back when his parents were still alive. Now, though, he’s just a teen billionaire, which will probably show through sooner rather than later. “I’ve had worse,” is all he can think to say.

He has, as a matter of fact, had worse; it’s not a lie. He can’t even count the number of times he’s surfaced from a three-day bender in the lab to realize he’s been munching on two-week old, stale pizza or drinking coffee that had been sitting so long it’s started to grow mold.

Clint nods. “I know what you mean, man. When they first brought me in, I had been eating on the streets for over a year. I’ve gotten used to it by now, though, eating regularly. Phil even takes out us once a month or so, me and Natasha, to somewhere fancy like the Hard Rock.”

The Hard Rock Café is okay, Tony’ll give it that, fun even, but it’s nowhere he would consider fancy. Tony the system kid probably wouldn’t think that, though, so he lets it go. Instead he says, “Columbia has pretty good food, you know,” because he’s already made up his mind to give them both scholarships, and they should have something to look forward to. They both stare at him, though, so he adds, quickly, “You know, if you get the Maria Stark Foundation scholarship.” Then he remembers he’s pretending he hasn’t been to college yet, either, and says lamely, “Uh, or so I’ve heard.”

“Nothing we couldn’t have guessed,” Natasha says loftily. “Privatization is what keeps the world turning.”

Tony stares and Clint snickers. “She’s Russian,” Clint explains. “They made her do a report on the USSR in history class once and she took it pretty hard.”

Natasha just ignores them, nose in the air like she doesn’t give a fuck. It’s an attitude Tony can respect, and he’s about to tell her so when he happens to look over her shoulder and sees from a few tables away the very person he’s been on the look-out for: Steve Rogers, standing up and moving to take his tray to the counter to dump. Tony recognizes him from his picture at once, because he’s a hottie and Tony always, always remembers those.

“Wow,” he says, under his breath, because this kid’s better looking in person, and Tony hadn’t thought that was possible. His hair is so shiny and his cheekbones, well, Tony really wants to touch them.

“What are you staring at like that?” Clint asks, squirming around in his seat to get a good look behind him. “Oh, him. Dude, I gotta tell you now, that kid is trouble.”

Tony glances back at him, sharply. This is the kind of information he needs to make an informed decision about the kid. He should have known to ask these guys about it, but it’s a big place and he wasn’t sure if they even knew each other. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind where he doesn’t have any privileges left because he keeps getting into fistfights. All the teachers are supposed to watch him real close, which means anyone he hangs around with has more of a chance of getting into trouble, too.”

“He is quite attractive, though,” Natasha adds, apparently back in the conversation.

“Well, yeah,” Clint agrees, “but that doesn’t mean he’s not trouble. If you’re gonna go after that, Tony, you’d better watch your back.”

“Hmm,” Tony says, thinking. The essay the kid had written had been really sad, all about being sick and lonely as a child and using art as a means of coping. It’s a great sob story for any sucker to fall into, which is why Tony wants to get a good look at his art first hand, see if he gets any loneliness vibes from it or anything. If this kid’s a fighter, though, the whole essay could just be something he made up to get the scholarship. Either way, Tony has to meet him.

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” he tells his new friends. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Better you than me,” he hears Clint say as he walks away.

He follows Steve out a door and down three separate hallways before he goes into one of the multi-purpose rooms, empty other than them. Steve sits down at the back corner table by the window, and Tony just watches him for a minute as he opens his bag and pulls out a sketchbook that looks like it’s seen better days. When he starts drawing in it, Tony figures he’d better interrupt now, before the kid gets too lost in his own world.

“Hey,” Tony says, dropping down into a chair across from the kid. “Watcha drawing?”

Steve looks up with wary eyes, like he thinks Tony’s trying to start something. “It’s personal,” he says, firmly, but he looks like he’s tensing himself for a scuffle for the book. Tony’s torn between insult that this guy jumped to conclusions about him, and pride that he thinks Tony might be a threat. Steve’s clearly still growing into himself and he’s painfully skinny, but he’s still got a good four inches on Tony already. Plus, the kid doesn’t know this, because Tony’s scrappy, but he’s never been in an actual fight before. He’s boxed, sure, at his prep school, but that’s not the same at all, and Tony knows it. Steve, on the other hand, apparently has a history of fighting. If this kid wanted, he could probably take Tony apart.

Tony’s got one thing going for him, though, and it’s that he doesn’t back down, he simply misdirects. And luckily for him, he has a good idea of just what the magic word is to distract these system kids. “Just curious,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ve never been any good at art. More of a math and science guy, really. That’s what I’m going to college for, in the fall.”

Steve perks up just like Clint had at the mention of college. It’s not surprising; really, what percentage of kids who want to go to college in this complex actually get to? Not that many, Tony’s guessing.

“Oh,” Steve says, and relaxes back into his seat a bit. “Well, I’d show you, but it’s kinda personal, like I said. But, um, where are you going to college?”

“Columbia,” Tony tells him.

“They’ve got a good art program,” Steve says at once, like he’s somehow catalogued every college in the area and memorized their art program ratings. “I’ve applied there, but it’s expensive. Did you get a scholarship?”

He seems genuinely curious, like now that Tony’s proved he’s not a threat, Steve wants to get to know him, like he legitimately wants to be friends. “The Maria Stark one,” he says, remembering what he’d said to Clint earlier. “Only just found out.” That’s not a total lie, either, because Tony only literally found out yesterday that there even was a Maria Stark Foundation and he is never going to forgive Coulson for that, because, seriously, how embarrassing. On the other hand, though, this little adventure of his is putting a whole new light on the idea of philanthropy.

“I applied for that,” Steve says. “I haven’t heard back yet, though. There’s probably not much hope, since there are only four positions available, but I figured I might as well try. Can’t get anywhere in life without a little effort, right?” He smiles winningly as he says it, like he’s perfectly happy to keep on trying forever until he gets where he’s going. Tony doesn’t know the feeling, exactly, since everything pretty much comes easy to him, but he remembers how much he’d wanted Howard’s attention, and how he kept working for it even when it was clear he’d never get it.

“Yeah,” he says, faintly, then decides to change the subject. “What did you write for your essay, just bullshit?”

Steve looks a little offended at that. “Of course not,” he says. “I’m not a liar. I wrote about how art makes me feel, about how much it helped when I was a kid and my mother was dying. She was sick for a long time, and I needed somewhere to put all the emotions I was feeling and didn’t really even understand.”

It’s pretty much what he put in his essay, but when he talks about it, his eyes go soft and distant and he sounds so sad that Tony can’t help but believe him. So that’s one checkmark down for his character, but there’s still the fighting to consider.

“My friends warned me off of coming to talk to you, you know,” Tony tells him, knowing he’s changing the subject again and not even caring. Anyone who’s around him needs to get used to that kind of thing and Tony’s liking this kid enough already to want him to be around.

“I know what they say about me,” Steve says, with an expression on his face Tony’s never worn himself but is pretty sure is regret. “I never mean to get anyone into trouble, but there are a lot of bullies around here, and I can’t just let them get away with picking on other people like that.”

“So you fight them?” Tony asks, piecing it together. “You fight the bullies? And no one else?”

“Well, yeah,” Steve says. “Someone’s got to stick up for the people who can’t do it themselves. I’ve been in enough fights by this point to know what I’m doing. It was rough going at first, especially before my growth spurt, but these days people mostly just see me coming and get out of the way.”

“Can’t see why,” Tony flirts, letting his eyes wander. “If I saw you coming, I’d get right in your path.”

Steve blushes but seems pleased. “I guess you can see a few drawings,” he concedes, “if you want.”

Tony does want, and not just because it gives him an excuse to sit right up close to Steve and lean against his shoulder. Steve opens his sketchbook for him and lets Tony see inside. Steve’s good, there’s no doubt about it, but he’s rough, too. Art school would help him hone the talents that are already there, and that’s just one more checkmark in the pro-column of why Steve should get this scholarship. He explains the drawings, too, a lot of art nonesense Tony doesn’t even pretend to understand, but also why he drew certain things, what made him use a certain angle, emotional things that a certain line or mark makes him feel. 

By the time Steve looks up at the clock and says, “Crap, I’ve got a meeting with my social worker in five minutes,” Tony has a brand new appreciation for art. Of course, he’d appreciate it even more if the art in question was nude self-portraits of Steve, but that’s really a thought he should save for his alone time with his right hand tonight.

“We should hang out again sometime,” Tony tells him as Steve packs up his stuff, without thinking it through.

“I’d like that,” Steve says, and his smile in that moment makes Tony’s breath catch. 

Must be asthma, he thinks, and just smiles back, using the shark grin he wears for paparazzi photos. Then Steve’s gone, and Tony’s left alone in the room. He sighs and slumps back into his chair, thinking. That’s three kids down, all yeses for the scholarship. Just one more kid to visit, and then Tony can get back to his regularly scheduled life. Or something like that.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony does a bit of stalking before his meeting with Bruce Banner, amateur physicist. He’s not very good at it, this being inconspicuous business, but he's picking it up as he goes along. The very first thing he does is set up shop in a Starbucks across from Bruce’s place. It’s not a great neighborhood, certainly nowhere Tony would want to live, but it’s not too bad, for being in this part of the city. And there’s coffee, practically right outside the kid’s door, which makes up for a lot in Tony’s book.

From his vantage point of a table by the window, his two favorite things in front of him in the form of his tablet and a coffee, he makes observations about Bruce. For example, he’s always out of the house as early as possible and comes back just as late. Avoidance, Tony thinks. His house doesn’t seem to be a place Bruce likes to spend time in, and therefore approaching him there would be out of the question. He also never comes into the coffee shop, which makes bumping into him here pretty impossible. Eventually, Tony decides there’s nothing else for it: he’s going to have to follow the kid.

Following Bruce is actually a lot easier than Tony anticipated, mostly because the kid barely ever looks up. No matter where he’s going, he always keeps his head down, as if he’s afraid to look up and make accidental eye contact with anyone. To Tony, who admittedly is not a biologist or a psychiatrist, it looks like a conditioned response, one Tony doesn’t really understand. Back when his parents were alive, even when it was an absolute certainty that his father was going to smack him for getting in the way, he never put his head down like that. He always wanted to see, wanted to be seen, and if that meant taking the hit in the face instead of the back of his head where it would be less painful, so be it. Bruce apparently has better instincts for self-preservation or something.

The kid leads Tony on a long but not necessarily winding route to a nice looking building near a park. It takes Tony an embarrassingly long time to realize it’s a library, but to be fair, he’s pretty focused on Bruce and the way his head finally comes up to look straight forward instead of down at his feet. It’s a reaction he hasn’t seen, yet, and Tony wonders about it for a minute before it all clicks into place: it’s a refuge, like Tony’s lab, a place the world doesn’t exist, where it’s just him and the work.

Tony’s a little put off, once they go inside, by the metal detectors they have to step through. It’s just, the last time he’s been in an actual library was probably, oh, never – why would he, when he’s got the internet at his fingertips? The security seems a little excessive, though, even if this isn’t the best neighborhood in the city. It’s still just a library, and who’s going to start a fight or shank someone in a library? Well, no one apparently, because they can’t bring a knife or gun in without setting the alarms off.

By the time Tony’s done being bewildered about the whole thing, he’s nearly lost sight of Bruce. He sees him just in time, though, rounding a corner into a little room toward the back. Tony hurries to catch up, slowing his pace to a very quick walk when the librarian gives him a glare for running. The room, he realizes immediately upon entering, is a computer lab, nothing special, not like Tony’s lab, just twenty little cubicles with computers in them. Not even flatscreens or anything, but those big box computers that Tony hasn’t seen since circa 1995. Just looking at the room makes him want to put his new title of philanthropist to work and donate some cash to this place.

Despite how crappy this whole place is, though, it’s a pretty big hit with Bruce, judging by the way he makes a bee-line straight for a computer and claims it, like someone else might get there before him or something. Tony grabs the seat next to him, trying to act cool and natural like he hasn’t been following this kid for sixteen blocks or anything. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Bruce logs onto the computer and then navigates to what appears to be an online math forum. Tony would log onto his computer, too, because screw library cards, Tony can totally hack this shit, but he doesn’t want to get distracted. He doesn’t especially want Bruce to get distracted, either, come to that, so he scoots his chair over so he’s half in Bruce’s cubicle and grins winningly at him.

“Watcha looking at?” he asks.

Bruce squawks and hurriedly minimizes his window, giving Tony a wide-eyed look of fear.

“Whoa, dude,” Tony says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to scare you or anything. I mean, it looked more like math than porn, anyway. Unless you get off on that kind of thing?”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Bruce says, quietly. “Just leave me alone.”

It’s an odd reaction, until Tony remembers that this kid probably gets shit not only at home, but also at school and all the in-between times, too. It’s not easy being smart, and if Tony didn’t make it look so good, he’d probably get crap, too. Maybe if he gets Bruce to see he’s a nerd, too, he’ll be less defensive.

“Okay,” he concedes. “I can do that. I just saw you were working on math and thought I’d take a look. I’m a total math junkie, you know?”

“Oh,” Bruce says, and Tony can see his shoulders relax. “I guess you can look on, in that case, if you want.”

Tony does want, as a matter of fact, and not just to further this whole secret interview. He doesn’t go onto math forums often, mostly because he wants to save all his best work for his actual projects, but it seems like a pretty decent place, full of the smart, nerdy types Tony likes best. “So what are you working on then?”

Bruce explains it to him, and the way he doesn’t even dumb it down makes Tony proud of himself for his acting skills. Not that he was just pretending to be interested in math, by any means, but convincing Bruce he was harmless, now that was a feat. Tony just hmms and nods along, adding his input where he thinks it’s needed, and before Tony even realizes it, they’ve solved a proof together.

“Huh,” Tony says, sitting back, pleased in the way he always is when his plans come to fruition. “That was pretty fun. Too bad there’s no real-life application.”

“Well,” Bruce says, smiling back at him, “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. I used one of these proofs for a scholarship essay I did a few months ago.”

“Yeah?” Tony asks, hardly able to believe his luck. What are the odds that Bruce would bring up the very thing Tony wants to talk about? It’s just proof, he guesses, that these system kids really like to talk about college. “Which one?”

“The Maria Stark Foundation,” Bruce says. “The essay was supposed to be about why we deserved the scholarship, so I basically wrote that I can’t afford to go to college, but if I could, I think maybe I could go places, you know? Somewhere a bit further than working at McDonalds or Starbucks. I thought a proof would, uh, prove my point.”

“Get out!” Tony says, excitedly, because eff yeah! He knew this plan was going to work out, screw Coulson for doubting him. “That’s the scholarship I got.”

“Wow,” Bruce breathes, awed. “Did you just find out? I haven’t heard anything yet.”

“Just the other day,” Tony tells him. He’s practically an expert at lying, by this point, so he just goes with it. It’s not like he was living up to a specific moral code, before he started this whole philanthropic nonsense, so it’s not such a big deal. Just as long as he can keep all the lies straight, it shouldn’t be a problem. And anyway, it’s all serving a purpose, because by this point, he’s not only convinced of Bruce’s brilliance, but also of his genuineness. This kid’s definitely getting the scholarship, and not just because they hit it off so well while working together on that proof.

“I guess there’s still a chance, then.” Bruce looks sideways at Tony. “I didn’t realize you were a system kid, too.”

“Oh,” Tony says, caught without a lie ready. “Uh, yeah. I was in Xavier’s for a bit and everything.”

It’s not very convincing, he thinks, and so much for being a good liar, but Bruce accepts it for what it is and nods sympathetically. “I’ve never been there,” he says, “but I’ve heard pretty terrible things about it.”

“Yeah,” Tony says vaguely. Strictly speaking, he was only there for an afternoon, so he’s not sure exactly what to say about it. “Can’t get a good cup of coffee, anywhere in the whole place.”

Bruce laughs. “That’s not exactly what I meant. You probably live off coffee, though. I can tell by the way you twitch.”

“What twitch?” Tony asks, giving Bruce his best, exaggerated Tourette’s impression.

“You’re a goofball,” Bruce tells him, nudging his arm. “But that’s fine, I like you anyway.”

And that, that makes Tony’s day. “Eh, you’re okay,” he tells him, shrugging casually, no hint of a twitch in sight. Tony is so not twitchy, he’s just got a lot of energy, okay? And maybe he had a few cups of coffee while he was waiting for Bruce earlier, but so what?

They work on another few proofs together, but then one of Bruce’s nerdy friends from school comes over and Tony decides to make himself scarce. Still, before he leaves, he makes sure to say, “See you at Columbia,” because, seriously, Bruce should at least keep hoping about the scholarship. Tony already knows he’s going to get it, after all.

 

When Tony gets back to his office at SI, the first thing he does is call up Coulson and say, “Initiate Plan A.”

There’s a long pause after he says it, which he likes to imagine is Coulson struggling not to beat his head against the phone. There are no suspicious clanking noises, though, which Tony just isn’t sure how to feel about. Finally, Coulson says, “Tony, we talked about this. You are not James Bond.”

Tony knows exactly how to feel about that, on the other hand, and the best word to describe it is ‘petulant.’ Still, he can’t let himself get distracted. “I talked to all the kids,” he explains. “They’ve all been approved. Now you can work your social worker magic and make sure they all get the money and stuff.”

“Let’s be clear,” Coulson says, evenly. “I am not at your beck and call.”

“Coulson,” Tony whines. “This was your idea. No take-backs, now! I already met with them all and everything.”

“Okay,” Coulson agrees. “I was just verifying that you were sure about this. I assume you didn’t tell them who you are?”

“Were you not listening to the plan, Coulson? Because I think I made it pretty clear that was the whole point.”

There’s silence for a minute before Coulson finally says, “Alright. I’ll get the letters out today. I just hope you’ve taken into consideration that these kids are all going to be at Columbia in the fall. You’d better know what you’re going to say to them, should you run into each other again.”

Then he hangs up, leaving Tony alone with a new worry. He’s been pretty focused on this stage of the plan, these past few days, and sure he’d thought abstractly about hanging out with these guys at school, but that had all been just that, abstract. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to see them again; he does, and that’s kind of the problem. If he didn’t want to see them, Columbia’s a big place, and they wouldn’t be too hard to avoid. But if he does see them again, well, he’s sure they’d all have a lot of fun together. Until they find out his secret, of course. None of his lies were made for long-term use, and they’re all going to find out the truth, sooner or later. Tony has a sinking suspicion that Coulson may have been right, after all: this plan may end in tears.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony spends the rest of the summer alternating between working on projects for the company and building his Dummy bot, which is just for his own enjoyment. He also goes out drinking once or twice to places he can pay to pretend he’s twenty-one, but it’s just not as fun as it used to be. Tony needs better friends, he thinks on those nights, than the sycophants who follow him around hoping he buys them something or takes them for a ride in his private jet. Tony doesn’t have a private jet, not as such. Well, the company does, and Tony’s allowed to use it sometimes. Still, just because it exists doesn’t mean Tony wants to take people up in it to win their friendship. He can’t help but to think wistfully back to the day he spent in Xavier’s or the few hours in the library with Bruce. Those system kids liked him on his own merits, and he’s positive of that, because they didn’t know he was rich. It was a nice break, to be treated like he was poor for a change. Not that Tony wants to be poor, by any means, but it’s nice to be treated like his money doesn’t matter, every once in a while.

Still, Tony doesn’t exactly have the option of hanging out with those kids again, at least not until they’re at Columbia. Once that happens, Tony’s sure he can make up some story to explain all the inconsistencies in the lies he told them. Until then, though, he’s going to have to put up with these mediocre friends who only want him for his money. But at least Tony’s entourage knows how to party hard, and that’s something Tony definitely appreciates.

One day, after a particularly epic night before, Tony comes in to his office at about noon, hung over as all get out but feeling like he should at least put in an appearance for the board meeting in the afternoon. Even if Tony doesn’t have all of Howard’s shares yet, he still has half of them and that puts him pretty far up there, in terms of shareholding, enough to get him a seat on the board if he wants it. He usually just listens to all the windbags talk and ignore him, anytime he actually goes to the meetings. Once he becomes CEO, things will be different, but right now, it’s probably good to make himself known, let them get used to him.

He’s got his sunglasses on as he comes into the room outside his office, and it must be that, because where the old crone usually sits outside his door is a very pretty and very young redhead, instead. Tony blinks, takes off his sunglasses and blinks some more.

“Hi,” he says at last, deciding she’s not a hallucination. “Where’s whats-her-face?”

“Mrs. Colfax retired,” the girl says primly. “You signed off on her resignation. Mr. Coulson sent me to take her place. You’re not wearing that to the meeting, are you?”

She stands and Tony can see that she is not, in fact, a girl. She is a woman, a fully-developed woman. His eyes go a little wide for a second, staring at her cleavage. Then he regains his composure and smiles charmingly at her.

“So you’re my new secretary, huh?”

“Personal assistant,” she corrects automatically. “And whatever you’re thinking, you can forget it right now. I’m not here to sleep with you or cater to your every whim. I’m here to fix your life, because apparently it’s on a downward spiral.”

“Coulson doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Tony tells her. He still hasn’t given up on the sex, and if he has to wear her down first, so be it. “My life is completely in control.”

“So you’re not wearing that to the meeting, then?” she asks.

“What’s wrong with it?” Tony asks, looking down at himself. He’s too thin for suits to really fit him properly, but this one’s been immaculately tailored and fits like a glove.

“You look like a stripper,” she says and Tony grins, pleased she noticed.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “And?”

“You cannot go into that meeting looking like that, not if you ever want those men to respect you,” she tells him.

Tony scoffs. “Who said anything about respect? In another year I’ll have enough money to do whatever I want, anyway.”

“And if in the meantime one of them decides to maneuver you out of the company?” she asks, one delicate eyebrow raised at him.

“Oh shit,” Tony say. He hadn’t thought of that. How’s he going to keep up the philanthropist part of his title without the company to make him money?

“Exactly,” she says. “I’m going to get my emergency tailor on the phone. In the meantime, go wash your hair. You have glitter in it.”

“Right,” Tony says. He’s taken a few steps towards the door before he realizes that not only has he been manipulated into showering, but he doesn’t even know this beautiful babe’s name. “Who are you, again?” he asks.

“Pepper Potts,” she tells him. “Now go shower. With shampoo and everything. I mean it.”

Tony goes. By the time he gets back, Pepper Potts already has a new set of clothes for him, a gray suit with a white button up and a navy blue tie.

“I am not putting that on,” Tony protests. “I’ll look like I’m going to junior prom.”

“It’s your choice,” Pepper tells him, turning back to her paperwork. “But I’ve gotten rid of the clothes you stumbled here in, so if you want to go to the meeting naked, that’s your choice.”

She’s a witch, this woman, Tony can tell already. It’s no wonder Coulson picked her out; she’s exactly like him but with tits. He grudgingly grabs the clothes she picked out and goes into his office to get dressed. He’s not happy about it, but even Tony doesn’t have the balls to go to a meeting full of old men in nothing but his skivvies.

When he comes back out, dressed in the boring suit, Pepper smiles at him, apparently pleased with her handiwork. “Look how respectable you look,” she says, but Tony just scowls.

“You’ve killed my swag,” he tells her, very seriously. “If I go out in this, I’m going to be a laughingstock.”

“I’m not asking you to go out in it,” she says, and the fact that she sounds longsuffering after only half an hour of knowing him makes Tony proud in a way he can’t even describe. It’s the same feeling of pride he gets whenever Coulson has to leave their meetings early to go chug Maalox in the bathroom. “I’m just asking you to go to the meeting in it. After that, you can put on a giant pink bunny suit, for all I care.”

“Fine,” Tony agrees, just to see what will happen. “Order me one of those while I’m out, okay?”

“Is that all, Mr. Stark?” she asks sweetly, and Tony gets the feeling that she’s making fun of him, but if she can laugh about it, so can he.

“That’ll be all, Miss Potts.”

He winks at her then makes his exit. His exit would be more impressive, of course, if he didn’t push the elevator call button twenty times and then bounce up and down while he waited for it, but he can’t help it; the shower gave him lots of energy he didn’t even know he could have at this time of day. He’d take more of them, but well, it actually isn’t worth it. Plus, he hates getting his hair wet, which has to be a byproduct of that time when he was three when his mother almost let him drown in the bathtub. That was before she started delegating the task to the maids, and Tony thinks it’s probably that decision alone that ensured he reached the tender age of six when he started being able to shower on his own. He was never a very happy camper about doing it, though and he still isn’t.

The elevator finally comes, and really, Tony should look into either buying or inventing high-speed elevators, because this is ridiculous. Once he’s inside, he thinks about how awkward and maybe kind of telling it is that his new PA made him think of his mother. Maybe, just maybe, Coulson is right and Tony actually does need someone to take care of him. Of course, just as Tony’s actually considering this, a cougar gets on the elevator next to him from the business and accounting floor, and he gets distracted again trying to see down her lacy blouse.

He’s on time to the meeting, but just barely, so all the old men are already in their seats and ready to start. Obi’s at the head of the table; since he’s CEO until Tony turns eighteen, he runs the meetings. He’s also the only one who acknowledges Tony, if the brief nod in his direction can count as acknowledgement. Tony gives him finger guns back, because it’s been that kind of morning and he needs to feel cool again.

That’s the most interesting thing that happens the whole meeting, though. Tony spends the majority of the time building schematics in his head. He’s got a few new ideas for weapons paraphernalia that he’s been toying with lately, things that will wow everyone in this room, because even if they don’t respect him as a person, they’re all for the things that come out of his brain. They’re humoring him, he knows, giving him an office and a position in R&D. They think he’s just a kid, and they’re right, he is, but even they can’t deny results. The team Tony heads in R&D produces the best, most-marketable products in the entire company. It’s not just Tony, either. He hand-picked that team, they’re the best of the best, and even once he goes back to school next week, he’s confident they’ll continue to produce results. Plus, it’s not like Tony’s going very far. He’ll be here at least three times a week to check up on everyone. Unless, of course, he gets caught up in his own lab, but since Tony’s on his way to being one of the best innovators out there, period, him getting caught up in his own inventions isn’t exactly a bad thing.

These old men, though, the ones on the board, they don’t give a fuck about any of that. They look at him like he’s out of his league, even with his new, tame suit on. After the terribly boring meeting’s finally over, they all get up and leave and not one of them says anything to him. Even Obi doesn’t try to catch his eye. Doesn’t want to be embarrassed in front of all his friends, Tony guesses. Or something like that. Tony doesn’t like to think what it says about his life that the only people he interacts with are people who ignore him for their own purposes and people who pay way too much attention to him for their own purposes. It’s days like these that he most looks forward to school starting again, because at least there he knows there might be a few people who genuinely like him for him. And heck, even if it’s too dangerous for him to be friends with them, Tony knows there will be at least four more people running around campus this year who actively fit that criteria.

Later, when Tony gets back to his office after the meeting and finds a pink bunny suit, complete with ears and paws, exactly in his size waiting for him, he starts to think that maybe he’s got someone on his side here, too. He doesn’t know her very well, but Pepper Potts may be exactly what he needs to help him take back his company.

 

When school finally does start again, Tony’s more relieved than he’d like to admit. He’s missed the labs and the campus and even the professors a little bit. His first night back, he celebrates by pulling an all-nighter in the lab. He gets some serious work done, too, even if it’s only on his robot. He’s very nearly gotten the thing complete. Pretty soon he’ll be able to give it a test run, see how well it functions on its own with just the coding and the wiring he’s given it.

At about ten the next morning, after a night of being super productive and also a genius, Tony blinks fuzzily when he feels a buzz in his pocket. He wipes his greasy hands off on his shirt, since his rag is way too dirty to do any good, and pulls out his phone. It’s a text message from Pepper, reminding him he’s got class in two hours.

Tony scowls at the words, and fully intends to ignore the warning, but then he reconsiders. Pepper’s a very persistent woman, and if Tony doesn’t respond, she’s likely to come over here in person and drag him bodily from the lab. She’ll probably make him shower, too, and Tony can’t have that. Plus, even if Pepper gets super attractive when angry, even Tony might be embarrassed to have all his lab mates see him being manhandled by a tiny redhead in six inch heels. Tony’s got pride, after all, even if it doesn’t surface often. 

_Okay, okay_ , he texts her back. _I’m going._

He does go, too. He packs up all his stuff and shoves it into his already overflowing locker in the front of the lab. Then, after about twenty-minutes of scrubbing his hands and arms clean, he makes his way outside into the sunlight. Of course, someone up there must not want Tony to get to class, because he’s not three feet outside when he bumps into one of the four people he’s supposed to be avoiding.

“Holy crap, dude,” Clint says, before Tony can even think of a good lie or anything. “There you are!”

“Here I am,” Tony says weakly, still not sure how he’s going to play this one off. He’s had over a month to think of something really good, but every time he tried, he ended up getting distracted by something else. Story of his life, really. Still, now’s the time to come clean, if he’s ever going to. It’s the right thing to do, and they might even still want to hang out with him once they know who he really is. It probably won’t change anything at all.

Tony opens his mouth to confess. Then he thinks about all the people who follow him around, pretending to be his friend to get his money. He thinks about the people at SI who look down on him or ignore him specifically because of who he is. None of those things would be an issue if he wasn’t a rich little white boy. He closes his mouth, decision made, and lets Clint get on with the conversation.

“Natasha and I looked all over for you at Xavier’s,” Clint tells him. “Where did you go that day? Did you get in trouble for hanging out with Rogers or something? ‘Cause, man, I warned you about that guy.”

“No, nothing like that,” Tony assures him quickly. “I just got moved.” He really hopes that’s a legitimate thing that happens in group homes, otherwise his cover’s going to be blown already. 

“Oh,” Clint says quietly. “Any place bad?”

“Nah,” Tony says, waving a hand to dismiss the concern. “But I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.”

“Damn straight,” Clint says, and holds up his hand for a high five. Tony meets him halfway, because he can never resist a dramatic gesture. “This place is boss, I can tell already. Me and Tash have only been here since yesterday, but it’s way better than Xavier’s.”

“Well, yeah,” Tony tells him. “This place is Ivy League. So you guys both got the Maria Stark scholarship, then?” He knows he shouldn’t play with fire, but Tony’s always been way too curious for his own good and he just has to know how the scholarship’s working out for these guys. He also has to make a mental note to remember that he’s supposedly also on the same scholarship.

“Yeah,” Clint says excitedly. “Can you believe that? Both of us, at Columbia. It’s way better than I ever hoped. And it’s everything included, too: food any time we want it, a dorm room for us to share, the works! I’ve never had it this good, man.”

“Glad to hear it,” Tony says, and he is. It’s good to know he’s making a difference, even if he’s not really the one doing anything. He’s sure Coulson has fact sheets somewhere with statistics about the difference the Foundation is making, but this, seeing just one person’s world just be rocked, it’s pretty sweet. 

“So where’s Natasha, now?” he asks. He wants to see her again, and not just because she’s a hottie. She is, but since she’d made it very clear the last time they were together what she’d do if he tried to cop a feel, he’s content to watch from afar.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Clint says, and digs in his pocket with one hand. “We’re supposed to be meeting for food before class, but this campus is freaking huge and I keep getting all mixed up about where I’m going.” 

He pulls out a cell phone and Tony’s appalled to see that it’s an old model, at least two years old with scratches all over it. It’s not even touch screen!

“Where did you get that?” he asks, horrified.

Clint looks up from where he’s texting and narrows his eyes at the face Tony’s making. “Hey, don’t judge,” he says. “You know the scholarship doesn’t pay for anything not school related. I got this cheap, okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony agrees. “You can tell.” He didn’t look at the exact details of the scholarship, because money matters bore him to death and that’s what he has Coulson for, anyway. Still, this only-school-related bullshit will have to be remedied next semester. Until then, though, Tony’ll have to do what he can to take care of these guys, make sure they get the things they need to survive, like new models of phones and laptops. “I can get you a better one,” he adds.

“How?” Clint says skeptically.

Tony thinks fast. “I’ve got connections,” he says vaguely. He hopes that’s a line he’ll be able to use more than once, too, because he’s going to need it.

“Huh,” Clint says, sizing him up. “I didn’t take you for a guy connected to the black market.”

“It’s not like that,” Tony insists. “I just know some people.” He does, it’s true. He knows the person who designed the latest Stark phone, even helped with the coding a bit himself.

“Okay,” Clint says, shrugging and goes back to his texting. “Just don’t get yourself in trouble or anything. Bros have to look out for each other, right?”

Bros, Tony thinks. He considers it. He’s never had a bro before, in any real sense of the word. He’s had peers, associates, co-workers. He’s had teammates, playmates, sex partners. He’s never had a bro, though. He thinks maybe he’s pretty alright with having one, now. Hell, maybe he can even get the whole group of these scholarship kids together and then he’ll have four bros. Or, well, three bros and whatever the equivalent of that is for a chick.

“Natasha’s in the dining hall already,” Clint tells him. “You wanna come eat with us?”

“Sure,” Tony tells him. Class isn’t for two hours anyway, and even if he ends up missing it, so what? He’s got friends to hang with. “And afterward, I’ve got some people I want you to meet.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel kind of bad whenever nothing actually happens in a chapter, whenever I sit down and accidentally write 2500 words of Clint, Tony and Natasha having lunch, like happened here. Never fear, though, I'll make up for it soon with some chapters with actual action in them instead of just dialogue and feels *shrugs* it'll happen eventually, i swear!
> 
> Also, um, obviously I don't go to Columbia and I don't know anyone who does, but if you do and you spot any inaccuracies that offend you, just let me know and I'll change them :)

“So,” Tony asks Clint over lunch, “How’s the mysterious relationship going? Gotten into that guy’s pants yet?”

They’d been planning on eating at John Jay, but Tony had taken one look at the crowds swarming the place and instead dragged them over to Ferris inside Lerner Hall. Freshers usually miss the place at first, and Tony feels a swell of pride to be able to show them where it is right off the bat. Just one more way he can help these guys, even if it’s only help at avoiding the crowds in the dining hall. He’d had to explain that he knew the place by casual exploring, but that’s fine, too. It’s almost true, just that the exploring in question took place a few years ago. 

“No,” Clint says sulkily. “I’ll get there, though.”

Natasha snorts, like she just doesn’t believe it. “You’ve been trying for over a year,” she says. “I think maybe you should just let it go.”

“Never,” Clint says. He narrows his eyes at the both of them and takes a large bite of his buffalo burrito, apparently so he won’t have to answer any more of their questions. It’s admirable, Tony’ll admit, his devotion to his guy that won’t even sleep with him or anything. Tony’s never had the kind of relationship that demands that level of commitment, but if he did, he’d damn sure want sex right up front in exchange.

“Do you know who it is?” he asks Natasha. He’s been under the impression that she and Clint have no secrets from one another, but if even she doesn’t know, it’s probably pretty serious. Of course, Tony should have known better than to expect a straight answer from Natasha. She just shrugs one shoulder and makes a zipping motion across her lips with two fingers. Tony tries to intimidate her into talking with a narrow-eyed glare, but all she does is laugh at him.

“Look,” Clint says, swallowing his mouthful with a little difficulty. “I’ll make you a deal: if I ever get this guy to date me, I’ll tell you who he is. Until then, I don’t want to jinx it or anything by talking about it.”

Tony considers this, but it sounds pretty fair. Tony’s never been especially superstitious, but he knows how these competitive types sometimes are. “Okay,” he says, then adds just for fun, “But if there are any sex tapes made when you finally hook up with this guy, I wanna be the first to view them.”

Clint laughs and agrees, which honestly does make Tony feel better about the whole thing, even if it probably isn’t going to happen. Clint’s a good-looking guy and even if this potential boyfriend is a bit older, it’s reasonable to think that he’s at least decent looking. Most people are, actually. Decent looking, that is. Except Tony’s new friends, they’re all smoking hot.

“So,” Clint says around another bite of his burrito. “Who are these people you want us to meet?”

“Oh,” Tony says, looking up from his cheeseburger wrap and trying to figure out a way to put it that won’t incriminate him in any way. “There are two other people on the Stark Scholarship here, you know? I’ve met them both already over the summer and I was hoping to meet up with them later. I thought it would be cool, you know, all of us hanging out together since we’ve all got the same scholarship.”

“I’m not sure that’s a very good basis for a friendship,” Natasha tells him thoughtfully.

“It could be,” Tony says defensively. “What do you know about it? How many friends do you even have?”

“How many do you have?” she counters, and okay that’s a good point. Tony’s not exactly an expert here, but he’s the only one who’s met them all and he thinks they’d come together nicely. They’re all radically different, true, but aren’t opposites supposed to attract?

He counts and double counts in his head, trying to figure out what constitutes as friendship in his life to answer her question. There’s Rhodey, sure, but he’s already graduated and off to the Air Force, so they don’t talk much anymore. There’s Pepper, too, but since he’s paying her, he’s not sure if it’s legit. There are also the hordes of sycophants that follow him around when he goes clubbing, but he definitely isn’t going to count them. On the other hand, though, there are these guys: these four scholarship kids that he’s apparently going to engage in actual friendship with. “Four,” he tells her at last. “And you could have that many, too. Just let me introduce you guys. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“It’s not that she doesn’t trust you,” Clint tells him. The he pauses, rethinks it. “No, wait. That is it. She doesn’t trust you.”

“You know, I totally don’t have to put up with this crap,” Tony tells them, even though he’s honestly enjoying the debate a little bit. “I could totally go hang out with someone else.”

“You mean like with one of your two other friends besides us?” Natasha asks innocently and Tony scowls.

“That’s it,” he tells her. “I’ve only got three friends now. You’ve been demoted to acquaintance.”

“Oh no,” she says flatly. “Whatever am I going to do?”

Just as Tony’s working up a good come back, his phone rings. He sighs, pulling it out and checking the caller ID. It’s Pepper and he swears, checking his watch. She’s going to skin him alive if he’s missed class. His watch says it’s still only about eleven-thirty, so he’s got at least half an hour before he has to be there. That’s not enough time to walk back to his apartment and take a shower, but he wasn’t really planning on that anyway. The kids in his department are all pretty used to him being filthy by now, anyway, since Tony rarely goes to class without being dragged kicking and screaming directly out of his lab first. 

“Hang on,” he tells his friends then answers the call.

“Tony,” Pepper says sternly from the other end of the line. “I assume the reason you haven’t been answering my texts is that you’ve been getting ready for class.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” he lies. “I’m just brushing my teeth now.”

“Mmhmm,” she agrees skeptically. “I can hear that. I’m not going to hound you about your cleanliness or your appearance, because I promised I wouldn’t, but Tony, you really need to go to class. It doesn’t matter how brilliant you are, those professors aren’t going to hesitate to fail you if you never show up.”

“Pfft,” Tony says. “They are not. They don’t care. I only ever went half the time for the past two years and no one ever said anything about it. They’re not about to kick me out when I’m almost done.”

“Maybe not,” Pepper concedes. “But that doesn’t mean it’s right, Tony. You may not think you need those classes, but let me remind you that the whole point of even going to college as opposed to starting with the company right after high school is to get experience and learn things you didn’t know. How are you going to do that in the lab by yourself?”

“Hey, I manage just fine,” Tony informs her. He does, too. His brain’s always coming up with new things to work on, most of the time without his express permission. He sees the looks Clint and Natasha are giving him, though, and decides that now is probably not the best time to argue about this, especially not while he’s undercover. “Listen, Pep, I’ve gotta go, but I promise I’ll go to class, okay?”

“Alright,” she says. “I’ll trust you. But remember that you’ve got a meeting with your team co-leader tonight at six, okay? He’s made it clear that if you bail one more time he’s going to stage a hostile takeover of the entire R&D.”

“Okay,” Tony agrees, feeling slightly put upon. “Whatever. Bye.” He hangs up before she can remind him of more things he has to do today. He’s got enough on his plate already and it’s not even noon.

“Who was that?” Clint asks curiously. 

“Oh,” Tony says, thinking quickly. He does a mental review of all the things he’d said to Pepper, trying to hear it how it must have sounded one-sided to Clint and Natasha. He concludes that while it must have seemed like an odd conversation, it wasn’t anything incriminating. “My, uh, my sister.”

Honestly, it pains him a little to even call Pepper that, after all the ogling he’s done and also that one time he tried to grab the side of her boob from behind and got slapped for his trouble. He can’t think of any other way to explain it, though. He’s already said he only has four friends and he can’t tell them that she’s his assistant. He may not know much about system kids, but he’s pretty damn sure they don’t have assistants to remind them of meetings and help prepare them to take over the multi-million dollar company they’re going to inherit. Sister, though, sister works. He’ll just have to remember not to make any comments to his new friends about how much he’d like to tap that. He also has to make sure not to introduce them to her, or at least not until he can convince her to play along with this little scheme. He has an idea that it’ll be a pretty hard sell.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Clint says. He reaches out not-so-sneakily to grab a handful of Natasha’s fries and is stopped by her lightning-quick reflexes. “Ow,” he says, cradling his wrist. “I need these hands, you know,” he tells her. Then he turns back to Tony. “I’ve got a sibling, too. An older brother. Haven’t seen him in a couple of years, though. Is your sister older?”

“Yeah,” Tony tells him, making up a backstory on the spot. “She’s twenty-four. She was already legal by the time my parents died.” It’s all true. It’s just the details he’s leaving to be inferred that are the lie. 

“Well, it’s nice that she still calls you and stuff,” Clint says, but he sounds pretty sad about it.

At this, Natasha gets a very serious look on her face and reaches out to touch Clint’s shoulder. “If Barney doesn’t call you, it’s his loss,” she tells him. It’s almost sweet, the way she says it, and Tony blinks in surprise. Scary, scary Natasha has a heart, after all, he thinks. He makes a note to ask Coulson about this Barney character, see if he can use his social worker connections to track him down or something. Tony’s sure he’s got the hacking skills to do it, but he’s honestly just not sure where he’d start with that one. Coulson’s definitely the better option here, even if Tony hates to ask him for favors.

Clint just looks away from the two of them for a minute and takes a deep breath. When he looks back, it’s like nothing’s happened at all. He goes about his business as usual, stealing from Tony’s plate this time. Tony lets him have the fries, wishing there was more he could do for this guy.

“Anyway,” Clint says, clearing his throat. “What classes do you have today, Tony?”

“Oh,” Tony says, trying to remember his schedule. He hasn’t thought about it much, really. He’s got Pepper for that, after all. “I’ve got BioMEMS at twelve.”

They both stare at him blankly and Tony grins a little, remembering that not everyone speaks engineer.

“It’s Bio-microelectromechanical systems. It’s design, fabrication and analysis. I’m hoping we get to build something awesome.” He rubs his hands together thinking about the prospect. He doubts they’re going to build an android or anything, but hey, a guy can hope.

“Uh huh,” Natasha says, clearly still confused about what he’s saying but unwilling to show it. “I see.”

“What do you guys have?” Tony asks, kind of to be polite but also because he sorta wants to know. It’s a new thing for him, actually being interested in what other people are doing, but he wants to know everything about these guys, even the boring stuff.

“Mandarin,” they both say at the same time.

Tony laughs a little at how twin-like they are, but then he remembers something about Natasha that he’d somehow forgotten. “Wait a sec,” he says. “Aren’t you from Russia and therefore already speak a foreign language? Why would you take a different foreign language that you don’t know when you could just get away with skipping the class altogether.”

“That would be cheating,” she answers firmly. “I didn’t come to college to cheat. I came to learn and I think knowing Mandarin will help me to pursue certain other career paths once I graduate.”

The way she says the words ‘other career paths’ makes Tony shiver a bit and think unwillingly of Natasha becoming a spy. She’d be good at it, too, he bets, what with all that ballet training and her bilingual education.

“Yeah,” Clint agrees. “What she said.”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever I guess,” he tells them. “If you wanna learn Chinese, I guess that’s your call. I just wouldn’t bother, is all. One of these days, someone is going to invent an automated international translator and then that whole career path will be obsolete.”

It’s not Tony’s specific area of expertise, translation, but he knows it’s true. If nothing else, once he gets his AI up and running (not Dummy, but the one he’s going to build once he gets good enough, the one that will be able to hack government systems all on its own and run his apartment and everything), he’s sure it’ll be able to take over that function and Tony won’t even have to pay a translator whenever he goes to visit the SI factories overseas.

He’s got more to say on the subject and he’s about to bring it out, but then his phone goes off again. It’s a text, yet another reminder from Pepper to get his ass to class.

“Sorry, guys,” he says, shoving the rest of his fries toward Clint and standing. “Pepper’s really getting on my case about this attendance thing. I’ll tell you what, though, I’m going to text my other two scholarship friends and we can all meet later for drinks or something.” Not at any of the hot clubs where he might be recognized, obviously, but he’s sure he can find a nice quiet little bar for them to hang out in.

“We’re not legal,” Natasha reminds him like he’s slow. “And aren’t you only like thirteen?”

“Sixteen,” Tony corrects her automatically. “And don’t worry about that. I know some places that will let us in.” He’ll just have to figure out a way to bribe the bartender without the others seeing. He’s always been good at slight-of-hand, though, so it shouldn’t be that much of a problem.

“Okay,” Clint agrees. “I’m in. Want my number?”

“Sure,” Tony says, and pulls out his phone to type the number in as Clint rattles it off. “Alright,” he says after he’s saved the contact. He grabs up his bag and swings it onto his shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

“Bye,” Clint calls, already starting in on Tony’s fries. Natasha nods, too, and Tony thinks that’s practically acceptance from her.

The walk to class isn’t a long one, and Tony’s actually on time for once. He takes the opportunity to stop and buy a coffee from Café 212 before leaving Lerner. He makes a note to point this place out, too, in case his friends don’t see it on their way out of the building. Maybe if drinks don’t work out tonight, he can even bring all his friends here and they can get coffee instead. It’s not as good as drinks, but it might actually be better for introductions, especially considering how upright both Bruce and Steve had seemed last time he saw them.

On that note, he’s also got to make sure he tracks down their schedules and “accidentally” bumps into them at some point today. He doesn’t actually have their numbers, no matter what he’d implied to Clint and Natasha. He’s not even sure they have phones, which he can totally fix if they don’t, once he gets them all together.

Right, he thinks. He’s got a plan and it’s a good one. He’s got class now, then again at two-thirty. After that he’s got some hacking to do and friends to meet up with. Oh, and there’s also that meeting he’s got tonight, which might even be a little fun, since it’s with his co-leader and not some boring board guy. Tonight he’s got drinks or coffee and he absolutely cannot forget that, because it’s a key factor in bringing all of these foster kids together and cementing his place as their friend. So, yeah, it’s going to be a crazy day. It’ll be worth it, though, once all of his new friends are together. They’ll make a great team, Tony knows it, and he’ll be there, too, right in the middle of people who actually like him, just like he’s always wanted.


End file.
